


It's Lonely at the Top

by zetuslapetus



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, also super ooc cause theres no plot, except to i hope break through my writers block, this is just porn, unbeta'ed porn with no purpose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:41:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26362834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zetuslapetus/pseuds/zetuslapetus
Summary: What if it wasn't lonely at the top anymore?
Relationships: Beth Boland/Rio
Comments: 20
Kudos: 221





	It's Lonely at the Top

**Author's Note:**

> _I know it's lonely at the top._
> 
> I wish that I had the talent and the patience to work through this quote ... but the idea that he's lonely and yearning for someone to share the life with .. and the things he goes through alone because there's no one to share the burden with [soft sobbing].

The bed dips behind her, annoyingly rousing her from a most pleasant dream. It takes her a few seconds to orient herself, to remember where she was, whose bed she was burrowed in. Blinking, she stretches her legs out beneath the covers and turns her body towards the faint light coming from behind her. 

Unsuccessfully she tries to fight back a yawn. 

He’s seated on the side of the bed, covers rumpled around him as if he’d just gotten up, as if she’d caught him moments from rising out of bed. She hasn’t though, she knows, and she wonders just how long he’s been awake. He turns to look at her when he feels her hand against his bare waist.

“What’s wrong?” Beth whispers. 

He shakes his head.

“One of my runners hasn’t checked in, probably nothing. Go back to sleep.”

The tense way his shoulders are set tells her it’s the exact opposite of  _ nothing _ .

Beth exhales, rises to her knees behind him, and lets the covers fall to her waist.

“Come back to bed if it’s nothing then,” she says into his neck and wraps an arm around his middle. 

He clicks his phone on, checking for a notification, then locks it again when he finds nothing. 

She’d come to learn a lot about this man in the past year as they’d begun regularly sharing a bed, but this Rio is something she’s yet to get used to. The Rio that worries openly, the one that lets her see his  _ process _ . This Rio, who doesn’t sleep more than four hours a night unless everything is perfect. 

“Rio,” Beth mumbles against his skin and presses her chest to his back. “Is there anything you can do about it right now?”

He doesn’t respond, but he places the phone on the nightstand and drops his shoulders. 

“I had a dream about you,” she says and drops her hand to his belly. 

“Oh yeah?” 

His voice is gravely, still laced with sleep. He must not have been awake that long. 

“Mmhm,” she hums into his shoulder and slips her fingers into his boxers. “I was dreaming I was in my office, working.”

She wraps her hand around his soft cock and he hisses.

“What were you wearing?” 

“That black skirt,” she says into his neck and begins to stroke him.

“The tight one I like?” 

She hums against his neck and slides her palm to cup his balls, tugs at the skin in the way she knows he likes.

He spreads his legs wider and grabs her bare thigh.

“I was closing up for the night when you showed up - ” she continues.

His mouth drops open and he lets out a breath, grunts softly when she wraps her fingers around his shaft again.

“Demanding a tour of the new models,” she scoots her body closer, presses her chest tight to his back so she can stroke him fully.

He chuckles. “Don’t sound like me,” he grunts and fucks his hips upwards to meet her hand.

She strokes from base to tip, long and languid tugs. When she palms the head she squeezes just the right amount for his hips to falter in their thrusts. 

“Fuck,” he grunts softly and slips a free hand behind him. He hooks two fingers into her panties and presses them against her clit before she can even realize what he’s doing. 

“Rio,” she hisses, reprimanding him. “I’m trying to help you relax,” she says on a moan when he slips two digits inside of her.

“I’m relaxed -  _ fuck _ ,” he grunts when she squeezes on an upwards stroke. “What happened next?”

Her head lulls forwards and she drops her forehead to his shoulder, already lost in his touch.

“Elizabeth,” he says quietly and curls his fingers. It rips a soft whine out of her. “You with me?” 

She twists her grip and rubs her thumb across the head of his cock in response. 

“Then I took you to see the new Caldera models and you wanted me to get in,” she says quickly and gasps when he starts to work her clit with his thumb.

“Is that what’s got you so wet?” He asks with a smirk and turns his head to look at her over his shoulder. “You wanna get fucked in a hot tub?” 

She grinds her hips against his hand, the angle is wrong but the way he’s curling his fingers inside of her makes her thighs shake. 

She shakes her head and blows a breath out against his cheek. 

“I didn’t get in,” she pants against his shoulder and pushes down on the hand between her legs. “The Caldera models are on a platform -” she reminds him.

He curses and lets his eyes close, lets his imagination run with her story.

She was right, the new models were on a higher platform to showcase the customizable lights around the edge of the spa. They were lifted no more than three feet of the ground, and the perfect height for bending her over the edge of one. 

“ - I’m coming,” she gasps into his ear, and then the next second she’s rocking away from his grasp, thighs quivering around his hips. 

She’s on her back before she stops shaking, and he pushes into her with ease. The room is quiet enough that she can hear the way his hips slap against her own, wet, and obscene noises between his grunts. She lets her eyes roll into the back of her head as he pushes into her, again and again. 

His palms close around her hips and she knows he’s close, not by his thrusts or his breathing, but by the way his thumbs press into the little dips at her hipbones. He’d told her once, albeit balls deep and moments from release but he’d told her that he loved her hips. Loved the way they were made for his hands, he’d said.

A few more deep thrusts, and then he’s coming, mouth open and hands gripping her tight. He’s quiet when he curls over her and lets his forehead rest against her chest, cock still twitching inside of her. 

After a moment he rolls over, splays out on his back, and lets his legs fall open. She’s also come to learn that he has no qualms about nudity, his or hers. She, on the other hand, rolls on her belly and squeezes her thighs shut. She’s sticky, wet, and can feel him dripping out of her. 

He notices, smirks and palms a bare ass cheek. He squeezes it hard enough to converse what she’s trying to do by keeping her thighs shut. She hisses his name and he laughs.

“I don’t have a spa but I have a tub,” he offers.

She shakes her head, opens her mouth to respond but the phone rings. The phone he’d abandoned on the nightstand. 

He stiffens, only for a moment, then he rises off the bed.

When he answers, he greets whoever is on the phone, and exchanges a few words before he hangs up.

“Everything okay?” She asks, voice mousy. 

He nods, tosses the phone back on the nightstand, and exhales.

“Dumb kid, passed out before checking in,” he says with a roll of his shoulders then he’s looking at her again. Not her body or the way she’s curled up but her lips. 

His face is blank, annoyingly unreadable when he leans down and boxes her in with his arms. His mouth covers hers and he slides his tongue past her lips, licks into her mouth. Its brief, then he’s gone, pulling back. 

“Thank you,” he says against her mouth before straightening up and letting his eyes roam the rest of her body. He turns for the kitchen with a smirk she barely catches as her cheeks burn and she scrambles to the shower. 


End file.
